


Tears

by SolarMorrigan



Series: Those 100 [19]
Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: M/M, copious use of italics, weird format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 06:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3436145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guys wait for word on Peter's condition and Egon remembers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears

**Author's Note:**

> The format of this one got a little wonky, so just in case it's unclear: things in italics are memories, regular text is what's happening in the present

There were one hundred things Egon did not want to think about at all right now, and they were all vying for his attention, swirling angrily at the front of his mind.

_Peter had dropped down into the seat next to him at the very last minute in their shared parapsychology course, introduced himself with a handshake and roguish grin, and immediately made himself a general irritation to Egon._

It didn’t stop.

_Peter was the person who talked Egon down from the ledge after he earned his first doctorate.  It was the middle of the night and Egon was wired and exhausted and sitting on the end of the bed wondering what to do now.  Did he go home and work for his uncle’s laboratory?  Did he continue his schooling?  Would his parents disown him if he began a degree in parapsychology?  Then Peter had come home from the late shift he was working to supplement his scholarship, settled down on the end of the bed next to Egon, threw and arm around his shoulders, pecked him on the cheek, and told him “Whatever you do will be great, so stop thinking about it and go to sleep,” securing his position as utterly indispensible to Egon._

And it only got worse.

_Their shared office in the basement of the university was nothing to be particularly proud of, but Peter acted like they had been given accommodations at the Ritz.  He and Ray had immediately set about placing personal touches around the cramped room, while Egon tried in vain to clean all the dust out of the beyond-second-hand desks.  “This is something else, isn’t it, Spengs?” Peter asked, settling himself on top of the desk Egon was currently trying to excavate and offering the blond a can of Pepsi, “Our very own department.  Funding and facilities for all the projects you mad scientists are cooking up.”_

_The younger man grinned over at Egon while Ray bounced about in the background, talking animatedly about what equipment they should requisition first, and Egon couldn’t help but feel a bit fonder of the little room._

And worse.

_“Y’think this is really going to take off, Egon?” Peter asked quietly, a rare crack in his armor of sarcasm and flippancy._

_Peter watched as Ray endeavored to make the stove in the kitchen work well enough to actually cook some food, a bright spot in the dingy surroundings of the broken-down firehouse.  “You seemed very sure of the endeavor earlier this week.” Egon replied, studiously bent over the PKE meter he was adjusting to their recent readings._

_“Guess I did.” Was Peter’s only reply, causing Egon to look up at last._

_“Well,” Egon searched for some fortifying words, feeling lost at sea and floundering in the territory that Peter usually covered, “I can’t guarantee the future.  But all we can do is our best.  And try not to go bankrupt.”_

_Peter snorted, reaching across the table and grasping Egon’s wrist.  “Yeah, thanks.”_

Until it was unbearable.          

_“We have a bust, Peter.”  Egon had said that very morning, shaking his bedmate ineffectually._

_Peter’s undoubtedly eloquent reply became a muffled “mmf” as he buried his face further into his pillow.  Egon shook his head and sat up.  “If you don’t get up now, you’ll have no chance of eating breakfast before we head out.”_

_Rather than attempt another verbal reply, Peter reached out and grabbed Egon around the waist, drawing the blond back beneath the covers and close against himself.  “Peter.” Egon tugged at Peter’s arm, attempting to sound stern in the light of the early morning._

_“Five more minutes.” Peter murmured, his lips brushing the back of Egon’s neck._

_Egon shivered.  “Your definition of five minutes seems to come from some form of temporal void.” He replied, though he ceased struggling._

_“Mhm.  Five more minutes, Egon.”_

And Egon couldn’t stand it.

“ _Peter.”_

“Egon.”

_“Peter!”_

“Egon?”

_“Peter, open your eyes this instant!”_

“Egon!”

“What?” Blue eyes snapped to focus at last, just as Ray was reaching out place a shaking hand on Egon’s shoulder.

“You were… you’ve been sitting there just staring for almost an hour.  I… we were worried about you.” Ray looked over to where Winston was sitting, tense and unsure as Ray.

“I,” Egon cleared his throat of the curious blockage it had acquired, “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to worry you.  I’m fine.”

Both Ray and Winston looked ready to contest the assertion, but instead, Ray wordlessly reached out and handed a papery tissue to Egon.  “What is this for?” Egon inquired, certain the shiver in his voice came from the chilled air in the hospital.  His bloodied jumpsuit and undershirt had been abandoned for a borrowed scrub top long ago.

“Your face.  I just thought… I mean, you started crying, so…” Ray trailed off, unsure of himself suddenly.

“Crying?” Egon brought a hand up to his face and was startled to find moisture there, his fingertips coming back damp. “Oh.  I- I’m sorry…”

“No need for apologies, man,” Winston replied from his chair across the way, “We get it.”

Egon paused, taking a moment to wipe his face dry with the tissue Ray had provided him with before sitting forward in his chair once more to continue the interminable wait for word on Peter’s condition.  “No,” He finally replied, quiet and steady, “I’m not sure you do.”


End file.
